


Kissing Games

by willowcabins



Category: Warehouse 13
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Library Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-24
Updated: 2013-08-03
Packaged: 2017-12-21 05:38:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/896442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowcabins/pseuds/willowcabins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We’re playing spin the bottle with the two hot exchange students in the living room it’s starting now come on.” Myka just stared at him.<br/>“What?!” She repeated.<br/>“Spin the bottle. Exchange students. Now.” Pete repeated the phrases slowly, still pulling at her elbow.<br/>(Did someone say cliche????)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

The party was loud and boisterous. Myka felt herself smiling despite herself. Pete handed her another red cup and she listened to Sally Baker talk about how excited she was about NYU. Sally didn’t know what she was going to major in yet, but hey she was in New York right? For some reason the teenager’s casual take on her future made laughter bubble to Myka’s lips. A light sheen of sweet graced Sally’s brow as she laughed with Myka. Pete grinned.

“I knew this was a good idea!” He praised himself, punching Myka in the arm lightly. Myka laughed, rubbing her arm almost delightedly as she used the wall as a stable base behind her.

“I think I’m drunk,” she whispered to Pete over her shoulder, a true master of subtlety. Pete smirked.

“You might be,” he agreed. “This is the best time _to_ get drunk though, Myka! School’s out! We’re done with High School _for life_.” Myka gaped at him.

“It sounds so frightening when you say that!” She told Pete, her words catching somewhat as her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. He laughed again: he seemed giddy despite his sobreity.

“Only to you, Mykes,” he corrected. She blinked, trying to focus him.

“No, no, no.” She disagreed, waving her hand around. “It definitely isn’t _just_ me. Other people are worried.”

“Other people?” Pete raised an eyebrow and spread his arms. “Who?”

“Sally!” Myka tried, gesturing where the other High Schooler had been standing mere seconds ago. Both Myka and Pete stared at the vacant spot for a second, surprised at how quietly she had escaped them. “Other people!” Myka amended, throwing her arm around to gesture around the room again. “Other people,” she repeated more quietly, nodding sagely.

“You need to stop drinking,” Pete decided, putting down Myka’s punch. She glared at him.

“No, I don’t,” she disagreed, hugging the plastic cup to her chest and cracking the plastic slightly. “I really don’t.” Pete rolled his eyes.

“You’re so lucky you’re staying with me tonight, otherwise what would I tell your parents?”

“That you forced alcohol on me and this whole situation is your fault,” Myka suggested helpfully. She started inspecting the other, mostly empty bottles on the table, relieved to see there was a tiny bit of wine left. She poured it into her red cup, oblivious to the _awful_ mixed drink she was creating for herself, humming happily.

“Come on Myka,” Pete pulled Myka’s arm. She looked up from her culinary exploits, surprised.

“What?” she demanded.

“We’re playing spin the bottle with the two hot exchange students in the living room it’s starting now _come on_.” Myka just stared at him.

“What?!” She repeated.

“Spin the bottle. Exchange students. Now.” Pete repeated the phrases slowly, still pulling at her elbow. Myka let herself be dragged, a look of disgusted confusion set in place. Pete laughed at her scrunched up face.

“It’s what you _do_ at parties!” He told her, pausing at the living room to drop her elbow and pull at his shirt. “Anyway, the girl is _really_ hot.”

“Where’s she from?” Myka asked, trying to remember if she’d seen anyone looking vaguely foreign. The only person she could remember was Miguel and he lived here. (that was borderline racist, she chastised herself as she realised where her thought-process brought her.)

“England,” Pete said absently, pulling at his hair and adjusting his glasses.

“How do I look?” He asked her, nervously. Myka laughed.

“What are my options?”

“Ruggedly handsome or crazy hot?” Pete offered. Myka laughed.

“Adorable,” she settled. Pete rolled his eyes but accepted the compliment anyway, dragging Myka into the room.

“Pete!” Some guy cheered. “Hey Myka!” Myka didn’t remember his name but she nodded at him anyway as she sat down in the circle. People shuffled along to make room for her to sit down.  

“Hey!” She greeted Anna from her English class who she sat down next to.  She almost crossed her legs before she remembered she was wearing a skirt (Myka Bering in a skirt!) and rearranged herself on the floor. Anna grinned back.

“Fancy seeing you here, Myka!” She teased, good naturedly. Myka blushed and looked down at the floor. She glanced down at the bottle as Pete sat down heavily beside her.

“I don’t even know how this game works?” she whispered to Pete, not looking up from the floor. Pete laughed.

“Watch and learn!” He commanded. “Is it my turn?” He asked the general group. There was a murmur of assent as Myka scanned the face, recognising half a dozen or so. The graduating class had been large and Myka not especially social, so she wasn’t surprised. Her eyes snapped back to Pete as she watched him lean forward and spin the bottle. It landed on an unfamiliar brunette. The circle cheered.

“You’re up, HG!” A boy with some familial resemblance cooed as Pete grinned, ears flushing red.

“Don’t worry, HG.” He promised the strange brunette. “I’m obnoxious in a cute way.” She raised an eyebrow at that and rolled her eyes.

“Come here and kiss me then,” she challenged. Myka gaped. This was a _kissing game?_ Before she could complain to Pete about false advertising, he jumped up and got his chaste kiss from the girl, who pushed him away when he lingered. “Against the rules!” She chastised him as Pete scampered back to sit next to Myka.

The exclamation made Myka suddenly realise the British accent. This must be the exchange student that Pete had been so excited about. Myka observed her in a fascinated interest: England and its culture had always fascinated her (as it would any well-read teenager). The girl caught Myka’s stare and grinned at her. Blushing furiously, Myka looked down again.

“Myka, it’s your turn!” Pete, elbowed her hard and Myka punched him in the shoulder on instinct. The circle laughed lightly and she leaned forward, slightly unstable on her arms, and spun the bottle.

It landed on the British girl again. The circle jeered.

“You’re magnetic tonight, sister,” the boy joked. She – HG- just grinned.

“It’s your second time so you have to use tongue!” one of the guys shouted. Myka whipped around to stare at him, agape.

“No, no, _no_.” Pete disagreed, umping to Myka’s defense. “It’s only if it’s a second time with the same _person_ , Joe.” HG grinned. Myka sat leaned back and stared at HG, still surprised at the whole situation. HG rolled her eyes.

“Fine, I’ll come to you,” she sighed dramatically and got up, _elegantly_ despite her short skirt to kneel in front of Myka. She cupped her face.

“Myka, right?” she whispered quietly. Myka nodded dumbly, suddenly only aware of the warm hands cupping her face and the gentle smell of alcohol and brass.

“Well, nice to meet you, Myka,” HG whispered, brushing her lips over Myka’s in a feather light kiss as Myka’s eyes fluttered closed. She lingered for a second and Myka decided she _liked_ her: the smell like brass at juniper and pencil sharpenings seemed to surround Myka in a warm cloud and Myka wanted to maintain that one moment so she could soak in the heat of the pad of the girl’s fingers and her light smile that was dancing on her lips as Myka’s eyes fluttered open again. She swallowed.

“Hello HG,” she replied quietly.

“Helena,” the Brit corrected quietly, her accent causing a warm tingle to flutter down Myka’s spine.

“Kissing, no talking!” someone in the circle complained, and HG rolled her eyes and let go of Myka’s face, shuffling back around the circle to her place next to her brother. Myka breathed in a shaky breath and sipped at her disgusting beverage in an attempt to focus her mind.

It didn’t help.

The game continued: Anna Sharpe kissed Julius Holden, laughing lightly, and Wilmer White talked himself out of kissing Reynolds Kline, much to the jeering of the whole circle. Charles (Pete told Myka), Helena’s brother was up next. He spun and the bottle seemed to drag in front of Myka as a moment of panic gripped at her chest. It slid past her and landed on Jacqueline o’Connor, who giggled happily and kissed the Brit with a satisfied smirk. It was Helena’s turn now and Myka gulped.

“She’s great at physics,” Pete whispered, raising his eyes brows suggestively. Myka rolled her eyes at him and shoved him playfully. Helena looked up and grinned at Myka as if she heard the comment and spun the bottle.

It landed on Myka.

The circle made some suggestive noises: Pete hmph-ed in annoyance and made a grumpy face and Myka swallowed as Helena grinned triumphantly.

“This time it _is_ tongue!” Joe called. Myka shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like being the entertainment for these boys. Helena jumped up again and walked around the circle to crouch slightly behind Myka again. Myka turned towards her, giving them some tiny modicum of privacy.

“Hey again,” she murmured. Myka smiled at her despite herself. Helena slipped a hand around Myka’s neck, caressing her cheek with her thumb as she grinned at Myka impishly.

“I was worried I’d gotten the physics wrong,” she teased, “but seems your friend’s faith in my ability is well deserved.” Myka laughed, a quiet breathless laugh, before Helena was kissing her again. It started the same as the first kiss: a light brushing of lips, that became more intense as Helena ran her tongue along Myka’s bottom lip. Myka gasped slightly into the contact and opened her mouth, welcoming Helena’s hot tongue.

“Right now, that’s enough,” Pete complained, shoving at Myka and nearly overbalancing her. Helena broke their kiss with a light laugh against Myka’s lips.

“I don’t like this game anymore,” she complained, a hand still in Myka’s curls and the other anchoring Myka’s waist.

“What?!” Came the general outcry from (mainly) the boys. Helena laughed and straightened up.

“I need more to drink.” She decided. Out of the corner of her eyes, Myka could see Charles roll his eyes as Helena offered Myka her hand. “Show me the way around American alcoholic beverages?” Helena asked sweetly. Myka accepted her hand and stood up, the exact opposite to Helena’s earlier elegance as she nearly tripped over her own shoes. Helena steadied her with a tightly clasped hand. “We’ll be back,” she promised the crowd with a wink and dragged Myka away.

“I don’t know anything about alcohol,” Myka hissed at Helena, tripping over her own legs awkwardly as they made their way through the rooms to the drinks table. Helena smirked.

“I gathered,” she said. Myka raised her eyebrows. “Your mouth tastes like you mixed wine, coke and whiskey,” Helena explained, lifting up bottles to see if they had anything in them. Myka put her hand over her mouth self-consciously and tried to remember what _exactly_ she’d put in the drink.

“Those are all empty,” Myka clarified.

“I know.” Helena lifted another bottle up and hummed at its emptiness.

“What are you doing then?” Myka asked, brow furrowed.

“Are they still watching us?” Helena asked in return, gesturing behind her. She was standing with her back to the living room. Myka, who was leaning against the table for both stability and comfort, was looking at the group, almost all of whom had lost interest in them.

“No?” Myka offered, watching Helena in surprise as she took Myka’s hand again and pulled her into the hallway. She tried a bedroom but quickly closed the door before Myka could even look inside. Another door was also unsuccessful. The last one appeared to be a small library or study, but Helena shrugged, turned on the light and closed the door behind Myka.

“This will do,” she decided, looking around the shelves smugly.

“For what?” Myka asked, letting go of Helena’s hand because she was all too aware of her own sweaty palm. This beautiful brunette confused her. She ran her hand over the books and turned to look at Helena as the Brit chuckled.

“You kiss well. For an American,” she teased and Myka was surprised how much her accent affected her when this girl was watching her in this library. Suddenly Myka felt hot and tense and there was a _frustration_ in her stomach she had never felt before. She turned around and swallowed.

“You’re pretty good too,” she whispered, back to the shelf. Helena stepped into her, confident smirk wavering a bit as she pushed back Myka’s hair from her face. One hand rested on Myka’s hip again, and Myka looped her arm around Helena neck as their proximity made their noses bump against each other.

“You think so?” Helena whispered, fingernails running through Myka’s scalps and suddenly causing the most pleasant sensations ever, little tingles down her spine.

“Yes,” Myka whispered, arching into the touch.

“Are you sure?” Helena teased.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Myka commanded. Helena laughed quietly, a deeper throatier laugh than before, but complied quickly. Helena’s mouth on hers was warm and Myka felt her whole body react to the urgent press of the lips. It started as a leisurely game of soft tongues, but then it sped up and suddenly Myka’s hands were glued to Helena’s sides as she held her close against her hips. Myka’s spine seemed to react with bursts of lightening every time Helena’s body shifted against hers and she kenned quietly into Helena’s mouth as the other woman opened her legs with her knees and pushed her thigh between Myka’s thighs, putting pressure right where Myka wanted it. Helena broke the kiss and pushed Myka’s hair back again as the two girls tried to catch their breath.

“Good?” Helena asked, staring into Myka’s eyes earnestly. Myka breathed heavily.

“Good,” she assured Helena. “Great,” She corrected herself, securing her own hands on Helena’s hips. She licked her lips and watched Helena’s pupils’ dilate with arousal at the action. There is something incredibly arousing about it and Myka leaned forward to capture Helena’s lips again.

Helena pushed against the kiss, moaning slightly into Myka’s mouth as Myka flicked her tongue. All the little sounds that Helena made seemed to affect Myka like electricity and her breath hitched as she pulled at Helena’s hips, grinding them into her own. Helena’s hand covered Myka’s left hand which had been sitting idly on Helena’s hips, and carefully pushed it under Helena’s shirt. The touch of Myka’s hands to Helena’s skin made the other woman push her own hips into Myka and Myka grinned against the kiss.

There was something wonderfully empowering about the knowledge that _Myka_ was doing this to her. Myka kissed her hard again, suddenly her only desire in life to keep Helena breathless and moaning. Myka trailed her hand upwards, revelling the feel of perfect skin and taunt stomach muscles before she met the solid cloth of a bra that stood in her way. She quickly turned them around, pushing Helena into the bookshelf and watching her predatorily. She lightly traced the underside of Helena’s breast; Helena moaned again. Myka shivered and pushed her hand up, so it was covering Helena’s whole breast. Helena arched into Myka’s hand, and bit down on Myka lip lightly.

Unsure what to do next, Myka rubbed her thumb over the breast, brushing against the aroused nipple (by accident). Helena’s head slammed against the shelves as her hips pushed into Myka’s again and Myka grinned easily at the expression on Helena’s face. She did it again, this time on purpose and Helena gasped loudly. Myka smirked and captured Helena’s lips again.

“I’m good at this,” she whispered against Helena’s lips. Helena’s eyes fluttered open and she grinned.

“And cocky?” She offered. Myka extracted her hand from under the shirt, to great audible protests from Helena, so she could begin unbuttoning the white blouse.

“Only slightly,” she whispered breathlessly as she pushed the blouse off Helena’s shoulder and stared at the expanse of skin, interrupted by a bright purple lace bra. Her right hand, still securing Helena’s hip, stroked the smooth skin. It reminded her of perfect marble; a masterful piece of art. Myka’s left hand looped behind Helena’s back, tracing her elegant spine, as she lightly kissed Helena’s shoulder. She kissed lower, and then lower again, and then suddenly she was at Helena’s breast, her mouth hovering over the bra, uncertain.

“Don’t stop,” Helena pleaded quietly. Myka looked up and stared into the dark eyes, her gaze flicking to Helena’s swollen lips as she licked her lips. Myka grinned and, almost on instinct, took the cloth covered nipple into her mouth. Helena’s hips bucked and she moaned again and Myka felt _powerful_ : she could reduce this beautiful woman to soft hitched breaths with only her mouth. She bit down on the nipple experimentally: Helena anchored a hand in Myka’s hair, gasping in pleasure. She tried several different things, fascinated by the visceral reactions she was producing. Helena seemed happy to show her appreciation in a variety of sounds. A swirl of the tongue gave way to a gasp of Myka’s name; lighting palming the other breast to uneven rocking.

Myka was about to push the bra aside, rough fabric keeping her away from the soft skin she wanted to caress, when the library door opened and Pete ran in. “Myka!” He said, relived, before suddenly understanding the situation in front of him. “MYKA?!?!?”

Myka froze and shot up, suddenly intensely grateful that she was still fully dressed. She slowly disentangled herself from Helena, much to the other woman’s protests and straightened up. Helena quickly followed suit: she picked up her blouse from the floor and quickly rearranged herself so she was decent again before lacing her fingers through Myka’s. She just stood dumbly, trying to find words to excuse herself to Pete, who was still gaping at her.

“Myka, are you okay?” Pete asked, seeming to recover from his stupor. He stepped forward and sent a glare in HG’s direction as he inspected Myka.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice hoarse. She coughed and tried again. “I’m fine, Pete. I was actually in the middle of something?” She tried to sound cocky, but her voice wavered and she coughed again. Pete raised an eyebrow.

“You’re drunk,” he decided grabbing her arm.

“No!” She protested, holding onto Helena’s hand tighter. Helena smiled tightly.

“Your friend is probably right,” Helena agreed with a sigh. Myka whipped around to stare at her, a feeling of rejection tight in her stomach. Helena read the pain in her eyes and stepped forward to kiss Myka lightly on the lips. “Wanna come find me tomorrow?” She whispered, ignoring Pete. The warm hand on Myka’s cheek was comforting and she felt her blood surge again.

“Yes,” she murmured. Helena grinned and Myka swallowed, that feeling of empowerment shivering in her veins as Helena pulled out her phone and offered it to Myka, who concentrated on hitting the right buttons carefully and double checked the number before she handed it back to Helena. Helena grinned and kissed her again before she let go of her hand.

“Come on, Mykes, let’s go home,” Pete murmured, dragging her out of the library, where Helena was standing, impish grin in place as she saved Myka’s number.

“But I want to stay with Helena,” Myka mumbled. Pete rolled his eyes.

“You’ll thank me for this in the morning,” he assured her, navigating her through the crowd of people until they were suddenly outside, the fresh air tickling Myka’s arms.

“Will I?” Myka mumbled, suddenly putting her hand to her lips. They were kiss swollen. She remembered Helena’s heat and the electricity in her spine and the frustration that was still coiled inside her. “I don’t think I will…” Myka muttered. Pete grinned.

“If you want her so badly, you can go bang her tomorrow. Tonight, we sleep.” He opened the door of the passenger door and Myka sat down unceremoniously. Pete smirked and closed the door behind her, jogging around the car so he could start the car.

“You’re just jealous,” Myka grumbled, putting on her seat belt. Pete smirked.

“Yes, I am! I mean come on, Myka! Helena G Wells asked for your number!” He held out a hand for a high five. Myka stared at him for a second in confusion before she high fived him. “You’re the _man_ , Mykes.” Pete grinned. Myka laughed and settled back in the car seat. “I suppose I am,” she agreed, grinning.

“I suppose I am.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter featuring awkward Myka, supportive Wolly, sisterly Tracy, flirty Helena and psedo-jealous Pete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly hahha 2 parts NOT GONNA WORK this is becoming a longer fic. also I'm sorry this is more episodic than the first chapter but otherwise this would have been a million word novel. Also, a million billion trillion thanks to the amazing Nash who helped me so much with this (I still hate her tho)

Myka felt stupid, but she checked her phone _obsessively_. When she woke up, she’d had two messages. Her breath had hitched in her throat as her phone, suddenly archaic and painfully slow, loaded her inbox. When her inbox appeared, Myka sighed in disappointment. Two texts from her mother, asking her when she would be home and whether she could buy some tomatoes on the way home.

Myka didn’t even like tomatoes.

Pete grinned lewdly at her when she came down for breakfast. “Sleep well?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Myka just glared at him.

“Yes, thank you.” Myka poured herself a cup of coffee and rubbed her eyes. She looked up to catch Pete smirking at her again. Disappointment and tiredness (though there was a surprising lack of hang over) made her irritable. “What?” She demanded.

“So, you gave Helena Wells your number…”Pete trailed off. Myka just sat down on the wicker stool heavily and leaned over her coffee cup. “Do you make out with girls in libraries often and then give them your number?” Pete asked, taking his orange juice and sitting down opposite Myka. Myka glared at him. “What?” He asked, spreading his arms. “I think that’s a legitimate line of questioning for your best friend!”

“Go away Pete,” Myka grumbled again. Pete grinned.

“I sort of can’t. You’re in my house.” Myka just gave Pete the most scathing death glare she could manage. Pete was not frightened. “I assume that our stunning British friend did _not_ text you, then?” he enquired. Myka shook her head sadly.

“It _is_ only 9am,” Myka defended Helena, playing with the watch on her wrist. Pete nodded.

“Exactly. And we left the party before her. For all we know, she only went to bed an hour ago.” Myka nodded slowly. “She’ll text you the _second_ she wakes up, I am _sure_ of it,” Pete continued. Myka looked down at her coffee.

“Why do you say that?” She asked, timidly. Pete grinned.

“I saw the way she looked at you.” Myka nodded, a small smile pulling at her lips. She loved it when Pete could make her feel better in only a handful of sentences.

“Now tell me, _was she a good kisser_?” Myka leaned forward to punch Pete. _Hard_. He just grinned.

Myka left soon after, avoiding most of Pete’s questions and leaving him with cryptic hums of agreement whenever he tried to tease her out with rhetorical questions. She cleaned up, made sure the rings under her eyes were more subtle than they were naturally, and drove home, via the grocery store.

 

 

The grocery store was always so _cold_. Myka shivered as she entered, bee-lining for the vegetable section so she could get out of there as fast as possible and show her parents that yes, she could be a responsible adult.

“Why is everything so cheap! I mean, look at these prices!” British accents carried across the grocery store and Myka froze.

“HG, stop touching everything!” Myka gulped as Helena came careening around the corner, arms full of groceries, as a younger man followed her, clearly attempting to catch her.

“I just don’t understand!” Helena laughed. “All this produce has to fly in! We’re in the middle of nowhere! Still, look at these prices!” She skidded to a halt gesturing at the tropical fruits. Myka shrank into her background, trying desperately to hide on the other side of the vegetable isle. She didn’t recognise the boy on whom Helena was currently unloading an armload of food. He sighed in exasperation as she picked up a pineapple.

“I don’t think we need _more_ food,” he complained.

“Sure we do,” Helena disagreed. “They’re practically giving it away anyway!”

“It’s because you’re not paying for it,” he grumbled. Helena decided on a pineapple and put it on top of the load the young man was already carrying, balancing it precariously.

“Well, you’re the best exchange brother a girl could ask for,” she teased. Myka blinked in surprise. Helena was staying with another British person? Myka wasn’t even aware there were other nationalities than American in Colorado Springs.

“And you’re the worst guest,” he grumbled.

“I sure am. Now can we _please_ buy that cordless power drill. Its 100 dollars, Wolly. A _hundred dollars_.” She put separate stresses on the words, dragging, the young man with her as she skipped off.

“Can we at least get a basket?” He demanded, but Helena would have none of it, too engrossed in her excited hurry. They disappeared around the edge of the fresh fruit isle and Myka straightened up slowly, blushing furiously. So Helena was awake…

Awake and running around Myka’s supermarket with a young British man who seemed to be her host brother? Myka worried her lip as she picked out the best tomatoes, distractedly trying to estimate their freshness. It just didn’t make any _sense_ , she decided, giving up and just taking any bunch of tomatoes.

Why would anyone come to a foreign country and then stay with a person of their own nationality? And why would they bring their brother? And why on earth would they come to Colorado Springs anyway?

Myka got to the end of the fruit and vegetable isle and peeked out carefully. The isles to the checkout were clear of any of excited British teenagers. Myka scampered to the cashier, where the owner’s daughter, Rose Soto, was sitting, bored. She was in the same class as Tracy and smiled at Myka, putting down her phone to scan the item.

“Hello Myka!” Myka jumped out of her skin as the excited British call echoed through the supermarket. Both Rose and Myka looked towards the commotion.

“Helena,” Myka greeted her, blushing furiously and glancing down at her feet.

“I was going to text you this morning, but Wolly has not given me a second to myself.” She grinned, skidding to a halt in front of Myka and dumping an arm load of power tools on the conveyer belt, narrowly missing Myka’s tomatoes. “Wolly, meet my new _friend_ , Myka.” The young man, who had an even larger armload of items, dumped them too, smiling at Myka as he tried to wipe the sheen of sweat off his forehead with his shoulder.

“Hello, Myka,” he smiled, sticking out his hand. Myka shook it: it was a clammy handshake but the young man had a friendly smile.

“Hello,” Myka replied, nervous smile playing on her lips. Helena grinned at her and stepped closer to Myka, cutting off her view from Wolly. All too aware that Rose Soto was standing _right_ behind her, Myka stepped back, banging against the conveyor belt. Helena tilted her head in confusion.

“How are you?” Helena asked, brow furrowing.

“Fine, fine, fine,” Myka muttered, looking down at the floor again. “I’m fine.” Helena laughed.

“Are you sure?” She offered, smirking. Myka swallowed.

“I’m sure I’m fine,” Myka repeated again. Helena shrugged.

“Want to do something tomorrow? I know its Sunday but I was thinking perhaps we could -”

“No, no Sunday, I can’t do Sunday,” Myka interrupted. Helena tilted her head.

“Why?”

“I work at the library up on the hill.”

“Isn’t Sunday your day off? Isn’t Sunday _everyone’s_ day off?”

“No, the library is open 24/7. In case, you know, someone needs it.” Behind her, Rose Soto guaffed at the idea. Myka and Helena both sent her a glare before Helena’s eyes shifted back to Myka. “I usually take the graveyard shift because they pay better.”

“So you work on the weekend?” Helena clarified.

“And in the evenings.” Myka agreed.

“So when normal people hang out?”

“I work,” Myka finished the sentence. It used to work so well for her, because while she worked she could do homework and Pete would sometimes join her and they would study on the library roof under the stars. Now she’s lonely: Pete used this new graduated life to sleep all the time and none of Myka’s other friends, _few_ other friends that is, wanted to enjoy an empty library at 3am.

It _was_ an acquired taste, she supposed.

Helena just watched Myka carefully. She stepped closer to her again, light smile playing on her lips. “I could come up and join you,” she offered, and Myka knew there was seduction in her voice. And all she could think of was Rose Soto on her phone behind her watching Myka be seduced. Rose Soto, with her phone in her hand, who could tell everyone. Rose Soto with her little pea sized brain and small town attitude. Suddenly all Myka could think of was her father, sighing and shaking his head.  Myka’s breath hitched in her throat. Her father would be so disappointed. She stared at Helena, too close now and she ducked and _ran_.

Helena blinked after Myka and glanced at Wolly in confusion. Wolly just tactfully hid a smile. “You can come on strong, Helena,” He explained. Helena rolled her eyes at him. Rose Soto looked up from her phone.

"Where did she go?" She asked Helena, dumbly. "She forgot her tomatoes." 

Myka just spent the whole ride home cursing her own cowardice. And the fact that she didn’t have Helena’s number.

 

 

Dinner at the Bering household consisted of a tomato-less lentil soup. “I just can’t _believe_ they ran out of tomatoes!” Jeannie shook her head.

“Did they run out of _all_ tomatoes?” Warren tried to clarify. “I mean, you could have brought back cherry tomatoes if they didn’t have any of the normal kind.”

“None,” Myka squeaked. “There were _no_ tomatoes.”

“At Soto’s Grocery too,” Jeannie muttered, truly aghast.

“Stop stressing about it, Mom.”

“I’m not stressing! Just surprised! Maggie always runs such a good shop!” Myka buried her face in her hands.

“Sit up,” her father corrected her. Myka snapped up and spent the rest of the meal trying to sort out the feeling of lead in her stomach. She wished that the lie to her mother hadn’t been such a big deal: she also wished her own reaction to Helena that morning hadn’t been such a big deal. She also wished it wasn't Saturday.

What kind of person _ran_ like that?

Myka did the dishes slowly, forcing herself to try and think of a solution to her problem. She couldn't.

Myka hovered in Tracy’s doorway for a full minute before her sister looked up from her sister looked up from her laptop and caught sight of her. “Oh, Hi Myka.” She glanced around her room, searching for any of Myka’s belongings that Myka could be searching for. Coming up empty, she glanced at her sister who remained silent. “Do you need something? Does Dad want me?” Tracy prompted. Myka worried her lip and shook her head.

“No, it’s all fine,” she hummed, walking into the centre of the room and standing there awkwardly. Tracy’s brow furrowed.

“Can I help you?” Tracy asked again, tilting her head. Myka swallowed and sat down on the edge of her sister’s unmade bed.

“Yes,” Myka admitted. Tracy watched her sister for half a minute before she sighed, gently closed her old laptop and sat down on the bed next to Myka. “Myka, what is it?” She asked, uncharacteristic sisterly concern evident in her voice. Myka stared at her hands.

“How far, have you, you know, gone on the first date?” Myka asked, mumbling out the question awkwardly.

“With a boy?” Tracy clarified. Myka glanced at the ceiling before she nodded timidly. Tracy grinned.

“I gave Toby Henson a hand job in the cinema,” Tracy offered in a conspiratorial giggle. “It was really really exhausting. I had cramps in my hand for like days afterwards.” Myka stared at her sister, half scandalized, half relieved that Tracy could be her guide on this matter.

“Do you remember the first time you kissed him? Was it really intense?” Tracy smirked again.

“Of course! But you’ve kissed someone too! You and Sam went out for like, a year!”

“Nine months,” Myka corrected automatically. Tracy rolled her eyes.

“What is this about, Myka?”

“Nothing,” Myka brushed off the comment and stood up again. Tracy grabbed her wrist.

“What happened last night?” Tracy narrowed her eyes. Myka shook her off and walked to the door.

“Nothing. Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, of course I’m sure.” Myka was getting annoyed at her sister’s probing and at herself for feeling so off kilter. Her sister was right. She’d kissed Sam a million times before: there was no good reason that this kiss should have affected her all the more.

“Okay, because you know, if there was anything, I would rather hear it from you than from slutbags like Fannie Reva Camacho.” Myka blinked.

“Why would you hear stuff about me from her? Do you gossip about me?!” Tracy laughed.

“Gossip about you isn’t exactly blowing up the twitterverse, Myka.” Myka just stared in confusion.

“The what?” She asked.

“Twitterverse. As in the social networking site, twitter.” Tracy flicked her hair in her usual know-it-all pose. Myka sighed and rolled her eyes.

“I know what twitter is,” Myka snapped back.

“You actually need to _do_ things in order for there to be things to gossip about!” Tracy added as Myka walked away.

“Thanks for your _help_ ,” Myka snapped over her shoulder. Tracy just flicked her hair. Myka stomped into her own room and opened her laptop, exasperated. She would have to scauer the _twittersphere_ herself to see if Rose Soto had said anything. Myka gulped at the idea.

An email from Artie, her boss at the library, caught her attention first.

“Good news and bad news,” read the subject. Myka’s brow furrowed as the familiar and completely unnecessary sinking feeling of ‘what did I do’ settled in her stomach. She waited patiently as the slow internet loaded the email.

“Good news is there is a new volunteer in the library. Bad news is that she doesn’t understand anything of the nuances of being a librarian and so I am teaming her up with you. She and you will start working together as of tomorrow.

Good luck: she is very annoying. And arrogant. Mainly annoying.” Myka chuckled at the email, Artie’s annoyance at the situation dissipating the feeling of unease in her stomach. She smirked at the email. She had a pretty good idea who fit the bill of ‘annoying’ and ‘arrogant’.

“I think Helena Wells is working at the library with me,” Myka texted to Pete. The reply was instant.

“I hate you.” Myka grinned and twirled in her chair. Perhaps she would be able to redeem herself from this morning. And if there was any place better than the library at 3am, then Myka just didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if ur annoyed this doesn't have library sex yet (legit complaint i feel u bro) check out my story 'Lights Out' bc yes that is also library sex. What???? ITS COOL OKAY. (also yes american food DOES seem that cheap to me)

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while drunk last night: Part 2 ~will come I promise (and it will also bump up the rating to E but I wanted the rating to reflect the first chapter for now) but it might take a week or so bc I am doing to KBH to visit my bestie so BEAR WITH ME. This is for Kellsie (tumblr user gildasradnor) and Chasey (tumblr user stahmata) bc they suck and no one likes them (true facts).


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